


The Night(s) That Started It All

by SnakesandTea



Series: Ineffable Indulgences [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Accidents, Aziraphale Has An Accident, Aziraphale likes this, Comforting Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley Likes This, Crowley has an Accident, Desperate Aziraphale (Good Omens), Desperate Crowley (Good Omens), M/M, Masturbation, Masturbation Mentioned, Omorashi, The Bentley Ships It (Good Omens), Urination, Wetting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-14
Updated: 2019-10-30
Packaged: 2020-12-16 09:03:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21033716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SnakesandTea/pseuds/SnakesandTea
Summary: Crowley desperately needs to pee, but traffic is painfully slow. He's hoping he can avoid wetting himself in his beloved Bentley. Aziraphale is oblivious in the passenger seat -- until he isn't. Neither of them will forget the nights' events -- and Crowley has plans to ensure said events are revisited and addressed.





	1. The Bentley

Rain pattered against the windshield as they progressed another half-inch through traffic. Crowley was beginning to regret all the tea he downed at the bookstore; he just loved the way Aziraphale’s face lit up when he said ‘yes’ to another cup – how could he ever say ‘no’? A furious cramp radiated through his abdomen. Perhaps he would in the future. Resisting the urge to curl into a ball, Crowley forced himself to stare at the road.

He stifled a groan as the rain picked up, tempting him with a violent spray across the windshield. A spurt of urine leaked into his boxers. Jiggling his left leg and tightening his grip on the steering wheel, he cast a glance at Aziraphale in the passenger seat beside him. It didn’t seem his angel was any the wiser and he slowly released the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

Aziraphale dismissed Crowley’s squirming as frustration with traffic. The demon tended to get restless when doing anything less than 5 over the speed limit. “There has to be something we can do.” He pouted for a moment before lighting up with an idea. “Find the dog, find the boy! But how does one locate a hellhound?”

Crowley shrugged, still staring at the road.

Aziraphale frowned; his brows furrowed. His smile and a light angelic glow returned as he announced, “His birth records, then!”

Trying to listen to the angel rattle off epiphanies dangerously distracted him. A sudden jet of piss warmed his crotch. His breath hitched. He quickly squeezed his legs together before inching the Bentley forward again.

Assuming the sharp intake of breath was a comment on his plan, Aziraphale challenged, “Well, have you one single better idea?”

Not trusting himself to speak, the demon grimaced and rolled his eyes. He pressed his legs even more tightly together as another violent cramp surged through his body. Losing control for a few seconds, urine freely flowed into his jeans, spreading across his inner thighs. Gritting his teeth, he clamped down on the flow. It hurt. Badly. Crowley wanted little more than to just let go right there. The Bentley’s interior be damned – he could always miracle it away. His aching bladder twinged at the thought of release and another spurt warmed his crotch, dripping down his balls before pooling around his ass. Fuck. He couldn’t chance a look to assess the damage; it would definitely make his angel suspicious.

It wasn’t like Crowley to not take an opportunity to snarl or at least gently mock him. Curious, Aziraphale thought. “I didn’t think so. Now, once we get his records, we must—” he trailed off. The angel realized his companion hadn’t been listening when the demon didn’t give him an expectant, albeit somewhat annoyed, look telling him to continue. Crowley’s squirming had gotten remarkably more frequent – nearly constant. It dawned on him just how much tea the demon had drank. He glanced at his crotch. It was more than a teensy-weensy bit damp. Oh dear.

Crowley shoved his right hand between his legs, wrapping his fingers around his dick through the sodden denim. His heart dropped, feeling the significant amount of liquid. He knew he wouldn’t make it much longer. The rain had let up to a light drizzle, lightly drumming on the roof of the car. It was all too much. Crowley squeezed his penis tighter as more piss dribbled into his underpants. Not in the Bentley. Please. Tears prickled in his eyes as he staunched the flow again.

“Are you all right, Crowley?” He asked.

His breaths came in shaky, choppy pants. “Ngk” was all he could manage, one hand gripping the wheel so hard his knuckles turned white, the other threatening to do the same to his cock. Anything to not lose it in his beautiful car.

Aziraphale found Crowley’s desperation to be quite enthralling, as his demon was so rarely this disheveled. Fighting to keep his voice even, he said, “There’s an exit about a mile up, can you make it?”

Before he could reply, hot urine burst through his fingers, further saturating his dark jeans, and rapidly pooling in the seat. The leather couldn’t absorb his flood and the piss spilled, splattering noisily onto the floor. He groaned as relief coursed through him. That luscious, illicit relief of finally releasing, messily and uncontrollably. His head rolled back as he thoroughly wet himself in the front seat of his Bentley.

Aziraphale’s breath caught as urine spread across Crowley’s lap; the liquid making his black jeans glisten in the streetlights. He stared with rapt attention, forgetting how to breathe as he watched his demon forcefully void his bladder in the car he so cherished. Arousal pinked his cheeks and ears as his cock twitched. He ignored the voice telling him he should be ashamed; instead choosing to fully indulge in witnessing such a naughty act. Oh, he _was _a bad angel, indeed.

Crowley dried his hand on his thigh as his thoughts raced miles faster than the Bentley could dream of reaching. The delicious pleasure of his release had started to give way sinking shame. Staring at his hand on the steering wheel, Crowley could _almost_ pretend he was somewhere else; _almost _forget that his angel was inches away, witnessing him lose control. What would he think? Out of the corner of his eye, he chanced a quick glance at Aziraphale – wait, was that _arousal _in the angel’s eyes? Already looking at the road again, he considered he’d only wistfully imagined it. Crowley felt his cheeks burn as his torrent continued its deafening gush to the floor, only diminished by his heartbeat pounding in his ears.

“Oh dear,” Aziraphale said under his breath. Taking a moment to collect himself, he shook the clandestine thoughts from his mind. He couldn’t delight in something when Crowley looked so close to tears. “Anthony, it’s all right,” Aziraphale whispered softly.

His stream dwindled to a trickle, and finally, after a few aftershock spurts, he was empty. Crowley sighed, the embarrassment momentarily forgotten as he relished in that feeling of being completely, gloriously empty. He stared at the mess his lap. Fuck. Shame flamed in his cheeks, dissolving all bliss from his release. The urine was already starting to itch and cool. He shifted uncomfortably, frowning at the state of his Bentley.

Reveling the sight for a final time, Aziraphale snapped his fingers and miracled it away. The Bentley and Crowley’s clothes were as fresh as the day he bought them. But his demon was still pouting. “Accidents happen, dear boy,” he said, cautiously placing his hand on Crowley’s knee.

The demon cringed at the word choice, but didn’t shake the hand from his leg. Part of him wanted to believe Aziraphale – that everything was okay, and that he wouldn’t see him any differently. He wanted to curl up in the angel’s arms, feel him run his fingers through his hair, and fall asleep in his lap; trusting the angel would never speak of his incident again. But the other, mischievous part of him recalled the way Aziraphale seemed entranced by Crowley’s misdeed. Immediately filled with deliciously wicked images of the angel getting off on the events that transpired this evening, he forced himself to swallow an obscene groan. His dick twitched as he imagined Aziraphale panting, palming himself as memories of him soaking his jeans were at the forefront of his mind. The voice of that very angel ripped him from his fantasies.

“Let’s go back to the shop,” Aziraphale said gently, unsure of what to do with the demon’s lengthy silence. He figured it would be best to act as though nothing happened –so long as Crowley did the same. “I just might have a book that could lead us to the Antichrist.”

Crowley grumbled his agreement, still ruffled over the whole incident. He’d wanted to try to get Aziraphale to confess his enjoyment but the demon was still far too vulnerable, and the angel clearly had more pressing matters on his mind. Crowley supposed he should as well. However, he just couldn’t get the thought of Aziraphale’s cock hardening as he lost control out of his head.


	2. I Implore You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley finally gets a chance to talk to Aziraphale about his accident in the Bentley -- and it was very much worth the wait.

Crowley hadn’t much of a chance to speak with his angel about The Bentley Incident – that whole apocalypse-averting business tended to get in the way of things. Not that time mattered too much to supernatural beings, especially considering it would likely be another 6,000 years before either side tried to decimate the earth again. Crowley, who had been drinking with Aziraphale in the back room of the bookshop for some hours now, thought it a good point to make. “I’d imagine that if our side, er, if Hell started – started the next apoc—Apoaca?” He paused and tried again, “Apocalapa”

Aziraphale attempted to help; the word was on the tip of his tongue; he was sure of it. “A— Apococapse?”

“Apocla--?” Blasted stupid word anyway, he thought. “End of the world! It’d take years to even get ‘em all workin’ together. Demons are like… like CATSSS! Yess, we’re like cats. Y’can’t just” he made a smashing gesture with his hands, “mush us together and expect we’ll do something as a collective!”

Aziraphale sloppily topped off his glass as he listened to the demon. He’d missed Crowley’s drunken ramblings as he deeply enjoyed seeing his demon with his walls down. True, much of his ranting was focused on the endeavors of Hell and his frustration therewith; but it was Crowley being genuinely, well, Crowley.

The demon continued, flailing his arms wildly. “We don’t like workin’ with each other, we don’ trust each other! It’d take 6,000 bloody years t’get six of us to do anything—anything collectively! An’ even then – we’re not…” Crowley started slowing down. “Well, we’re not really… committed.”

Thinking about a gaggle of demons trying to make plans, the angel giggled and crossed his legs. Crowley was his only basis of demon knowledge, and he could be quite disorganized when all was said and done. Though, demonic plans must be tricky to make, with all their distrust and vague hatred of rules – again, at least as far as Crowley was concerned. Truly, it could be considered a miracle his demon managed much trouble at all, since, when in the face of triumph or defeat, his first suggestion was, frequently, alcohol. It dawned on Aziraphale that it had been quite some time since he’d gotten this intoxicated. Wanting to get Crowley talking about _anything _lighter than another End Times, Aziraphale asked the first question that came to mind. “What—” He hiccupped, “what is your favorite color?”

“Really, angel? After 6,000 yearssss, you dunno I can’t see a lot of colors?”

He looked up in mock surprise. “Wait, dear boy, there are colors you can’t see?” Aziraphale was rewarded when a small smirk pulled at the demon’s lips. He chuckled. “I was just wondering if you had one you liked best, is all.”

“Tartan, it’s stylish,” he sarcastically remarked. Crowley studied his glass, sloshing the wine around. The motion of the liquid and a gentle _pang_ in his abdomen reminded him of a particular conversation he needed to have with his angel.

Aziraphale pursed his lips and stared at the demon, intent on getting an answer.

Crowley missed the look; he was busy wracking his brain for some way to work the angel’s fascination with The Bentley Accident into the conversation. Even going so far as to force some of the alcohol from his system to clear his head. Coming up short, he simply blurted, “I almost didn’t get out of bed in 1832 to use the lavatory.”

  
The angel was caught off-guard, the admission sobering him up a bit. He was quite fascinated with the idea of Crowley intentionally wetting the bed – even if it was only out of laziness. “Oh, you naughty demon!” Aziraphale continued, “Pray tell, what would you have done?”

He smiled impishly.

Aziraphale’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Naughty, indeed.” He schooled the smile threatening to pull at his lips, but could do little about the aroused blush of his cheeks. Imagining the demon _choosing _to indulge in such a wayward act – the sheer deviance of it – brought delicious shivers down his spine.

“Though, I suppose I _could_ have taken care of the mess easily.” Crowley noticed Aziraphale sitting up straighter, and, perhaps he’d imagined it, but the angel seemed to have taken on a glow.

“Mm,” he agreed, feigning disinterest. Though, he was confident he wouldn’t be able to keep up the façade for long as his thoughts drifted to the night in the Bentley. He recalled the look of ecstasy on Crowley’s face as he soaked his front seat, the silent moan on his lips as he gave in.

Crowley felt another small tinge of discomfort in his abdomen. He shifted in the chair, knowing his need wasn’t pressing at all. Watching the angel more closely, he noticed his pupils dilate and his breathing become slightly uneven.

Aziraphale, on the other hand, was much further along. Enthralled by the conversation, he’d neglected the warning signs that his bladder was quite full. To his surprise, he realized he was quite enjoying the building pressure.

Crowley raised an eyebrow. He saw the tell-tale signs that the angel needed to go and was interested to see how far Aziraphale would push himself. Part of him hoped_ too_ far. With a sly grin, he asked, “Have you ever done it before?”

“Crowley!” He chided, turning his focus to the glass in his hands as his face burned a deep red. The demon must have brought it up for a reason. It didn’t seem to be one of malice – and given Crowley’s recent accident… Perhaps he was looking for comfort? To know he wasn’t alone? “Well, 6,000 years is a bit of a long time to go without incident,” he replied sheepishly.

“Oh, _Angel_!” Leaning forward in his chair a new light danced in his eyes. “How did it happen?” 

Aziraphale pursed his lips as he squirmed in his chair. A particularly strong throb reminded him that he really needed to visit the lavatory soon. “It was only ever a teensy bit!” He fussed. The demon’s intense interest intrigued him.

Soft and seriously, Crowley said, “You can tell me.” He continued in a lower voice, “You saw what happened to me.” He didn’t want Aziraphale to feel uncomfortable, or frighten him off, but he figured this was his only opportunity to broach the subject.

He sighed. “Oh, all right. I got wrapped up in a novel – nothing remarkably noteworthy, mind you. Just a delightful bit of fiction I picked up on a whim. I’d just gotten to an absolutely riveting battle between two warring kingdoms, where a young prince offered a wounded opponent his shield,” Aziraphale smiled, lost in the memory.

“Angel?” Crowley prompted, hardly above a whisper.

“Ah! Yes, well, I had been reading for quite some time. And I suppose I had ignored the signs that I needed to go.” Much like now, he added silently. Aziraphale felt his cheeks growing red as he continued. “The urge hit me out of nowhere, and suddenly, I was wetting myself.”

Listening to the angel describe his accident – a fantasy Crowley had only entertained in his thoughts – practically sent him over the edge. He wanted to watch him flood the very chair he was sitting in. Doubt interrupted his errant musings; what if he had only imagined the angel’s arousal? Crowley cleared his throat before he spoke. “See, that wasn’t so bad.” He was starting to lose his nerve. Sure, Crowley had met plenty of humans and demons who had piss kinks, but he’d never been particularly proud of his. It was something he always preferred to ignore – but if there was any semblance of a chance his angel would… He forced his hope down, best to not be too disappointed.

Aziraphale had been swept up into the memory: the nearly animalistic take-over of his corporation contrasted by the feeling of warmth rushing over his lap… “No,” he mused, “It wasn’t bad at all—” Aziraphale’s eyes widened when he realized what he’d just admitted.

Crowley sat up. “You liked it!” He said, borderline gleefully.

“I—I didn’t say that!” He fumbled. Oh, but he had. He’d been getting off on the affair for a good 2,000 years.

“Look me in the eyes and tell me you didn’t enjoy weeing in your trousers.”

The phrase sent a shiver down his spine. “Okay! Yes, I like it,” he said, looking at the floor.

His heart pounded in his chest – he’d gotten the answer he wanted. But his angel looked painfully defeated. Crowley wanted to comfort him, to tell him it was nothing to be ashamed of. But instead, heat rose in his cheeks. He hated the words before they even left his lips; but he had to know. “You honestly don’t find it revolting?”

Aziraphale paused in a moment of thought, before finally looking his demon in the eyes. “Of course not, dear boy. It’s merely biology and nothing we can't clean up quickly.” He contemplated whether he should divulge his current predicament. A borderline violent cramp surged through him, making him shudder. “Plus, it is quite an intoxicating feeling – losing control.”

“Absolutely!” Crowley agreed enthusiastically. He could hardly believe what his angel was saying.

Another, stronger urge hit him. “Oh!” Aziraphale wedged a hand between his thighs as a squirt of urine escaped.

Crowley watched with anticipation as Aziraphale squirmed in his chair, a small wet patch seeping around his hand. “Naughty Angel,” he said breathlessly, his cock already half-hard. Based on the small moan his statement elicited from Aziraphale, he assumed the angel enjoyed it; but he wanted to be sure. “It’s… important to be open about what each of us expects – what we want.”

“Of course,” he pressed his legs together, losing another gush. “We’ll have to discuss terms, then, yes? I-In the future?” 

“Yes, Angel,” Crowley agreed in a whisper. His focus was solely on Aziraphale’s crotch, the beige trousers rapidly darkening as the angel lost control for a few more delectable seconds.

He looked pleadingly at the demon, shaking with the effort of maintaining his hold on the flow. “Can I?”

“I implore you,” he replied, hungrily.

Aziraphale moaned as he allowed his bladder to fully release. Urine flooded through his pants, pattering loudly on the carpet below. The act so naughty, so clandestine, he nearly stopped before locking eyes with Crowley. He saw passion and desire in those yellow depths and he loved being the one to make it happen.

Crowley’s erection pushed against the black denim. He couldn’t help it as stroked himself through his pants, watching his angel disgrace himself in the middle of his shop. He’d waited years for the moment. Before Aziraphale’s stream stopped, he was on the edge. Another stroke and cum burst through his boxers, leaving a nearly-imperceptible wet-spot on his pants as the angel’s torrent came to an end. “Was that okay?” Crowley asked guiltily.

Aziraphale nodded, still panting from the immense relief. “More than okay – that was…” He paused, searching for the right words, “flawless.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope y'all liked it! As previously mentioned, there are more works in progress for this series -- but still let me know what you want to see!

**Author's Note:**

> This piece will likely have two chapters - but I'm keeping with the ? to cover my own ass.  
Other pieces are currently in the works to be added to this collection -- but I'm open to suggestions!  
Hell, I'm more than just open - I welcome suggestions! Let me know what you'd like to see!


End file.
